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On July 28, 1997, we crossed the border from Tanzania
into Malawi. Exiting Tanzania was pretty easy, just present carnet to
the man in the rough timber 3-walled hut, who enters all the details into
a book, up to the main building, where they do exactly the same thing
again, this time stamping the carnet and our passports, and we're done.
So nice after Egypt.

Street vendors in Kasungu, Malawi
Entering Malawi was similar, no big deal, we didn't even need the carnet,
just a 'temporary importation permit'. 50 kwachas, about US$3.50. Oops,
we don't have any kwachas, and there is no way to change here, we should
have changed Tanzanian shillings in Tanzania for kwachas, but the rate
was very bad from the touts, so we didn't, forgetting that we were likely
to need local currency at the border - although we are used to being able
to exchange money on the spot. No problem, he said, you can pay at the
exit point. Okay, thanks. Next stop to the police check. Nobody there.
I went back to the last guy I talked to and told him the policeman wasn't
there, who said "Not your problem. I'll let you through." And
he walked over and opened the gate and let us through!
The road from Mbeya to the Tanzanian border
was quite good, but we had been warned that the road from the Malawi border
south was pretty bad. We were still a little shocked to see the reality.
It wasn't really that there were a lot of potholes, more accurately there
were bits of pavement here and there on the mostly dirt road. Some was
better, but overall it was pretty bad. The best stretches were where they
gave up on the pavement and instead of patching or filling in the holes
with dirt they just ripped the whole thing up and went back to pure dirt
road.
The next day we were planning on going to Livingstonia,
and on to Nyika National Park, on a secondary road off the main road.
We almost missed it - all the road signs in Malawi are very old, painted
black with very faded, almost extinct white lettering on it, and then
didn't notice the road, continuing on until we saw the sign for people
coming the opposite way, turned around, and figured that in between had
to be the road. Yup. That narrow dirt lane was it. Had to be, there were
even people sitting at the intersection under the shade of a tree, obviously
waiting for transport in.
We headed up the road, only slightly concerned, but the road immediately
deteriorated and started going UP, very steeply, winding around tight
hairpin bends. We saw a sign, Bend 21, then Bend 20, and the road got
worse. Huge washout ruts, starting up the hillside and coming across the
road and around the hairpin bend, left a series of deep gouges in the
road that had to be crossed at a 45 degree angle, at the same time going
steeply up. We were actually pulling wheelies over some of these ruts,
the front end bouncing around merrily, and the road got worse - steeper,
and very rocky. I finally got forced to stop, and told Susan to get off
and walk up this next stretch. She was pretty unhappy by this time, the
bouncing around and twitching and wiggling making her feel like we were
going to crash any second - not true, it was more like any minute.
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Main highway through north Malawi, from the back
of the bike
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Susan and bike on the road to Livingstonia, Malawi
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Anyway, I started to move up on my own, and immediately got stuck, a
rock jammed under the tire against the exhaust pipe. Unable to move at
all, I got off, and immediately stripped off helmet and jacket, as it
was also getting very hot. We spent the next 20 minutes trying to pry
the rock out from under, where it had managed to very thoroughly wedge
itself. While we were doing so, a couple of local girls came down the
hill, baskets on their heads, and stopped to talk. They told us that the
road ahead did not get better, as I had hoped. It was more of the same.
And 16 km more of it to Livingstonia, then another 25 or so of worse road
(according to our map) to the game park lodge. Right, we're out of here.
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